


i can tell my love for you is still going strong (even after the songs of summer are sung)

by driedupwishes



Category: Given (Anime)
Genre: A little bit of grief introspection, Kissing, M/M, Mafuyu being a little bit of a little shit, Post-Anime-Canon, Snowball Fight (sorta), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Uenoyama loving him so much that it'll rot not just your teeth but all your bones, a little bit of character introspection, the Hiiragi/Shizusumi is very much only hinted at but still sorta present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21611434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driedupwishes/pseuds/driedupwishes
Summary: Making bad notes is part of learning. You make a bad note, you shift your fingers around, you try again.Mafuyu takes a deep breath, on days where it feels like the bad notes pile up at his feet, and then he tries again.
Relationships: Kashima Hiiragi/Yagi Shizusumi, Satou Mafuyu/Uenoyama Ritsuka
Comments: 39
Kudos: 428





	i can tell my love for you is still going strong (even after the songs of summer are sung)

**Author's Note:**

> it is 2019 babes and we be out here HEALING
> 
> shoutout to ryssa, as always, for reading this and promising that it wasn't terrible jkdjfkdlja i LOVE you so much

Mafuyu doesn't really have to collect Ritsuka from his classroom during lunch these days, but he does it anyway. Ritsuka's yawning, hair mused like he's had his hands in it, and Mafuyu has to resist the urge to reach out and take his hand, the way he always does when Ritsuka looks so cute. 

The hallway is as quiet and sunlit as always, the air warm even as the cold of encroaching winter seeps into the shadows and breezes of late fall. In the time it takes Mafuyu to sling off his guitar case and pull the instrument out Ritsuka's already draped himself along the floor, curling up on his side for a nap. 

"Oh," Mafuyu says, laughing a little in the back of his throat as he leans over and brushes Ritsuka's bangs out of his eyes with his free hand. "Have I finally progressed enough that you'll let me practice unsupervised?"

Ritsuka peeks open one eye in the grumpiest manner humanly possible, which Mafuyu's been finding pretty adorable since day one and still, somehow, makes his heart rate speed up triple time. 

"No," his boyfriend says shortly. "I'll be listening. Just tired. Wanna rest my eyes."

Mafuyu feels his chest constrict with worry, because Ritsuka does look tired - looks worn, ragged and stretched thin, looks like he needs more than a lunchtime nap in a sunlit stairwell no one uses. 

Carefully, making sure he doesn't step on Ritsuka as he goes, Mafuyu moves to Ritsuka's other side and settles down with his back against the wall, twisting his legs a little to make sure he doesn't knee his boyfriend in his face. Once he's settled he props the guitar up in his lap, tucks the neck against his shoulder and sets to tune it. 

Halfway through tuning it he realizes Ritsuka's eyes are open again, bright blue peering up at his from the space next to his thigh.

"Y'know," Ritsuka mumbles, a grin crooking up the corner of his mouth, "if you wanted me to roll over I could've. You didn't have to squish yourself against the wall."

Mafuyu hums, shrugs one shoulder, and goes back to tuning. He extends his legs a little bit, shifting around to get more comfortable, and feels Ritsuka huff out a warm, laughing breath against the fabric of his pants as the other boy curls closer and presses his face against the outside of Mafuyu's thigh. 

The tuning process doesn't take very long, the action familiar to him now after so many months, and before long he's picking out chords, head bent over the fretboard as he hums the tune to their new work-in-progress under his breath. 

As far as Mafuyu can tell Ritsuka dozes for ten or fifteen minutes, drifting close to the surface of waking without fully falling on either side. Mafuyu doesn't mind, working his way back and forth through their new songs a couple of times before moving back, to try and work on the chord transitions in their first song too. 

He realizes his audience of one has rejoined him when he hits the wrong chord and hears a low, slurred mumble of, " _wrong_."

"I noticed, thanks," Mafuyu replies, but he can feel himself start to smile. He shifts the guitar in his lap, shakes out his fingers a bit and thumbs over the calluses on his other fingertips absently. "You okay?"

"Mhm," Ritsuka groans, rubbing his face against Mafuyu's thigh in a way that makes affection crawl like a disease through Mafuyu's lungs. "Groggy, but m'alright."

"You haven't been this sleepy in a while," Mafuyu says. He hates that it comes out tentatively, hates that he hesitates to say it at all, but he's trying, trying to communicate more clearly. 

It's something he's been working on with his therapist. Something for himself, for Ritsuka, for his mom, for his friends. It's working in starts and stops, but he thinks it's working. 

(Agreeing to go see a therapist was a good note. Actually talking to one without having it feel like teeth being pulled was another good note. 

Mafuyu's been having more and more of those, recently. Good notes. He still has bad notes, of course - still has days where he doesn't think he can express himself at all, doesn't think he should get the chance at happiness he has, but-

But making bad notes is part of learning. Ritsuka's said so. So has his therapist. You make a bad note, you shift your fingers around, you try again. 

Mafuyu takes a deep breath, on days where it feels like the bad notes pile up at his feet, and then he tries again.)

"S'not a bad sleepy," Ritsuka answers, his voice becoming less muffled as he rolls onto his back. He drapes an arm over his eyes to block out the sunlight, but he moves it just enough that he can peer up at Mafuyu through his lashes and give him a wry smile as he adds, "just a stupid one. Stayed up all night trying to work out the bridge in that damn song."

Mafuyu feels himself frown, even though he doesn't mean to, and he shifts with it, uneasy with himself, with the feeling rising up in his chest like seawater, like barbs. "You said you were going to let me help with that," he says, and his voice sounds small in the cavernous peace of their stairwell. 

Ritsuka stills on the ground, falling into a stiff statue-like position for a moment before he levers himself upright with a lurch. 

"I am," he promises, frowning as well. It looks, to Mafuyu at least, like he might also be uneasy with himself, or maybe he's uneasy with Mafuyu's demands. Before Mafuyu can dwell on that, Ritsuka murmurs, "I didn't really touch it much, but thinking about it kept me up most of the night. I guess I still don't really know how to deal with things that don't go my way."

Ritsuka huffs out a noise that's sharp and quietly sad, something he thinks is supposed to be a laugh but isn't, and shakes his head as Mafuyu's stomach twists behind the body of the guitar. "Sorry," his boyfriend apologizes quietly, head still tipped down. 

Ice steals down Mafuyu's throat, cold enough to dry it out and steal his voice from him. He swallows, the action feeling rough even though he knows it's all in his head, and shifts to set the guitar aside. 

His hands don't shake as he reaches out and for that he's grateful. They're okay hands, he thinks absently as they settle on either side of Ritsuka's downturned face - not particularly remarkable hands, not strong and sure like Ritsuka's or elegant and long like Yuki's were, but he's never had any complaints about them specifically, except that they leach the heat out of everything they touch come winter. 

But still- still, Ritsuka leans into his touch like his hands are the answer to all his problems, like they're the balm to all his aches, like he has no doubts Mafuyu will never let the weight he presses so freely into them fall. 

When Ritsuka leans into his touch like this, Mafuyu feels like he's the most powerful thing in the universe - like he's playing the best guitar, singing into the best microphone, plugged into the loudest amp and speaker system the world has ever known. 

He feels unstoppable, when Ritsuka trusts him like this. Even though he knows this feeling can be taken from him just as easily as it's been given, he still feels it, right down to the very marrow of his bones. 

It's a quiet moment at first, a hovering kind of moment - Mafuyu holds Ritsuka's face in his hands, gentle and careful, and then, as the silence stretches on and Ritsuka still doesn't look up, Mafuyu squishes his boyfriend's cheeks together like a child’s. 

Ritsuka sputters almost immediately, his shoulders jumping as he tries to jerk away but Mafuyu's got him steady. 

"No," Mafuyu says, a little sharp like his strings are out of tune. 

Ritsuka's disbelieving snort is distorted by his squished cheeks, but that doesn't stop it from happening in the slightest. "No," he echoes skeptically, eyebrows scrunching as he tries to follow Mafuyu's logic. 

"No," Mafuyu agrees, steady and gaining confidence the longer he holds Ritsuka close like this. "You don't have to apologize for that."

Ritsuka's eyebrows arch and his lips try to purse, though he doesn't get very far the way he is right now. Carefully his boyfriend reaches up, his strong, sure, callused fingers curling gently around Mafuyu's wrists as he tugs Mafuyu's hands back just far enough to free his face. 

"I told you we were gonna work on it together," Ritsuka argues, frowning in that intense way of his that always makes Mafuyu's stomach flip - not because he's particularly scary, like this, but because Ritsuka's hot when he looks so intense and serious. Frustration should not look so _hot_ , Mafuyu thinks, and yet here Ritsuka is, eyes smoldering, the line of his jaw on full display. 

"And we still can," Mafuyu argues back, twisting his hands in Ritsuka's gentle grip until he can tangle their fingers together. He gives Ritsuka's fingers a tight squeeze, biting back a smile as Ritsuka narrows his eyes in confusion. "It's not your fault you were thinking about it all night."

"Could've stopped," Ritsuka says, which is so unbelievably untrue Mafuyu snorts a little laugh. "Hey! I should've stopped, I-"

"Ritsuka, you make music the way other people breathe," Mafuyu interrupts, feeling his throat dry out again, this time not with the feeling of a crushing tundra but with heat and warmth instead. Ritsuka makes a face, scrunching up his eyebrows and nose like that will hide the blush filling out his cheeks, and Mafuyu can't help the way he dips forward to kiss his nose. 

"It's not a bad thing, that you love music," Mafuyu murmurs as he pulls back. Ritsuka's cheeks are even more pink than before, even as he opens his mouth to argue. Mafuyu doesn't give him the chance, though, continuing, "we could make a deal, if you wanted?"

Ritsuka's fingers squeeze around Mafuyu's, gentle but strong. Mafuyu tries not to swoon, tries not to wonder if he might be developing a thing for hands just by dating this genius guitarist. 

"What kind of deal," Ritsuka asks, frowning a little again. 

Mafuyu shrugs, lets their hands drop down into the space between their laps, and gives Ritsuka a small smile. 

"If you can't stop thinking about a song, then work on it. If it keeps you up at night, that's fine. But when you get to school let me try too, okay? That way you can still get some rest."

Ritsuka groans a little in response, shifts in the stairwell so he can slump forward, curling like he wants to go back to sleep. Shortly he says, "you should have more say in our songs than that."

Mafuyu shrugs, because he doesn't mind. Maybe one day he'll want to take the lead on writing a song for them, but he's only been playing guitar for seven months, only been able to read sheet music for less time than that. He doesn’t know if he could write a song all on his own, even if he wanted to.

"I don't mind," he says, honest and a little blunt, the way the words always come out whenever Ritsuka looks at him that way. "I don't know if I'm ready to do more than this. But I want to help. As long as you let me help, I'm okay."

Some of the tension leaves Ritsuka’s shoulders when Mafuyu admits he might not be ready to work on a whole song on his own, though there’s still a shadow of it in his eyes when he meets Mafuyu’s gaze. 

Quietly, teasingly, Ritsuka breathes out, “ _bossy_ ,” the word barely more than a mutter under his breath. 

Mafuyu laughs a little in response, feeling his own cheeks heat like Ritsuka’s always do when he mutters back, “you _like_ when I’m bossy.”

Ritsuka’s cheeks go from pink to red, but there’s little to no shame in the way he rolls his shoulders and answers, “guilty as charged, unfortunately. God knows we wouldn’t have gotten here if you weren’t bossy as hell.”

Mafuyu smiles at that, at the memory of lurching forward and grabbing the other boy by the collar, demanding to be taught to play guitar in a voice louder than he had spoken with since he’d stood in that icy, windy train station and thrown terrible, awful words straight in Yuki’s face. Ritsuka had looked so startled, so small in his grip back then - Mafuyu remembers pushing forward enough to feel the way Ritsuka’s back had hit the stairwell wall and thinking _it has to be you._

_It can’t be anyone else. It has to be you._

“It’s not like I’m the only bossy one,” Mafuyu points out, letting himself grin a little as he tugs on Ritsuka’s hands to try and get the other boy to come closer. “Who was it that was all _praise me! thank me!_ after the string got changed?”

Ritsuka groans, but the sound turns into a laugh as Mafuyu tugs on his hands once more, managing to get the other boy to scoot forward just a little bit. Their knees are almost touching like this, their upper bodies already leaning toward one another from their earlier conversation. 

“You-” Ritsuka starts, but Mafuyu gets distracted by the way the other’s lips part, gets distracted by the warmth of his hands and the catch of his calluses on the back of Mafuyu’s knuckles.

Gets distracted by the brightness of his eyes, smoldering behind a fall of never-ending lashes, and the way sunlight falls across the apple red of his blushing cheeks.

All it takes is one more tug, one more tiny pull, and Ritsuka’s toppling forward, like Mafuyu wasn’t the only one distracted, not the only one wanting. They don’t so much collide as slide together like interlocking puzzle pieces, Mafuyu’s back pressing up against the very same wall Mafuyu once pinned Ritsuka to as Ritsuka seals their mouths together in a kiss. 

It’s closed mouth kiss, more a brush of chapped lips against each other than anything else, but it’s familiar and electric like the first chord played at the start of a song. Mafuyu sighs against Ritsuka’s mouth, feels the other boy smile against his in return, and buries his hands in Ritsuka’s hair to keep him close-close- _close_.

By the time they part Ritsuka’s hair is a mess, enough of one that Mafuyu tries to comb his fingers through it to get it back into a semblance of order, least he send his poor boyfriend straight into an onslaught of curious questions and teasing from his classmates. Ritsuka is warm, warm enough that when he pulls back and shuffles away to just sitting in front of Mafuyu instead of crowding him against the wall, Mafuyu feels a chill crawl down his spine like the first ice of winter.

“You have to tell me,” Ritsuka says, eyebrows furrowing again over his eyes the only indication that he’s probably gone back to their earlier serious conversation. “If I’m making you feel left out, if I’m taking too much control of our music - you have to tell me, Mafuyu. You have to let me know so we can fix it.”

(It’s such a small thing - _we_. It’s only two letters, only one sound. 

But god, if it doesn’t change the world, doesn’t take everything inside of Mafuyu and shift it all around.

Mafuyu had loved Yuki, had loved him with every scrap of his heart, with every breath he breathed and pounding heartbeat he had. 

But it had never been _we_ when they were fixing things, never _our problem_ or _our song_ or-

Yuki, if he were here, would have said, “you have to tell me, so I can fix it.”

Yuki had loved him, Mafuyu knows. He knows Yuki had loved him.

But it hadn’t been enough. 

It hadn’t been enough.

Mafuyu doesn’t know who he hates more for that - Yuki or himself. His therapist has a lot of things to say about that and some of them are even starting to stick, but sometimes-

Sometimes Mafuyu just wants to _scream_ , to shout himself hoarse at the sky how unfair everything is, how much it fucking hurts to be left behind.

Which, according to his therapist, is normal. If he needs to scream, he should scream. He deserves to be listened to.

But he doesn’t want to scream right now. Right now, all he wants is-)

“ _Yeah_ ,” Mafuyu breathes and his voice comes out more hoarse than he means it to, something that jolts both of them with a spark of surprise. Worry flickers over Ritsuka’s face, causes him to lean back in and peer up at Mafuyu’s face as Mafuyu tips it down toward his lap, but it can’t be helped.

“Yeah,” Mafuyu repeats, a little louder. “We will.”

Ritsuka reaches out and cups Mafuyu’s cheek, swipes the rough pad of his thumb along the crest of his cheek, and then sighs.

“If I fall asleep at band practice later this week, you get to explain to Haruki how you were an accomplice to my creativity-induced-insomnia,” Ritsuka mutters, shaking his head as he draws back. Mafuyu watches the other boy check his phone for the time, watches him roll out his shoulders and run a hand through his hair, and thinks I'm so glad it was you.

“Sure,” he agrees, the word coming to him easier than breathing. “Sure. Now gimmie your notes; we’ve still got twenty minutes for you to nap and for me to get to work on this, right?”

Ritsuka laughs, hard enough that the bridge of his nose crinkles with it. He drops on his back and fishes a handful of crumpled pieces of notebook paper out of his pocket, giving Mafuyu an apologetic look for the fact that they’re so wrinkled. Mafuyu plucks them primly from his grip, trying not to grin at the way Ritsuka rolls his eyes, and then they settle back down in their previous positions, Mafuyu hoisting the guitar back in his lap and Ritsuka curling up on his side, scrunching close and then worming his arm up around Mafuyu’s waist as he presses his face against the outside of Mafuyu’s hip.

Mafuyu laughs too, dropping one hand down from the guitar to card his fingers through Ritsuka’s hair. “I can’t play like this,” he complains, pulling the guitar back just enough that it bumps up against Ritsuka’s elbow, to which Ritsuka knocks back with a snicker Mafuyu can feel warm and branding against his ribs. 

“Time to learn then,” Ritsuka mutters, his voice already thick with the promise of more sleep. Mafuyu rolls his eyes, ruffles dark messy strands once more, and then finds that it’s not that hard at all to play guitar with his boyfriend’s arm wrapped around his waist.

Honestly, it’s harder trying to decipher what Ritsuka’s written on this crinkled up piece of paper. But he’s not going to tell his boyfriend that if he can help it.

(It continues on like this for four more days - four days of Ritsuka battling exhaustion and the bridge chords all night and then turning the fight over to Mafuyu at school, to sleep away his frustration while Mafuyu takes a turn at finding the sound that seems right.

He gets it, eventually, and in his excitement he forgets to be gentle as he shakes Ritsuka awake, shouting the other boy's name loud enough for his voice to ring out through the stairwell. 

When he plays it for Ritsuka the other boy stares at him, eyes bright and cheeks flushed, completely enraptured by the piece of the song Mafuyu wove together out of all of Ritsuka's ideas. 

After the last note of the bridge fades out into the still air of the stairwell, Ritsuka takes a loud, audible breath, leans forward to gently tug the guitar out of Mafuyu's hands, and then crawls into his lap to kiss the living daylights out of him. 

They both go back to class that day with untamable messy hair, but Mafuyu doesn’t care. He’s too fucking happy to have gotten the sound of it right to care about their classmates’ whispering and scandalized looks.

If Ritsuka’s sleep deprived, slightly manic grin is anything to go by, he agrees.)

-

"Why did you get a dog anyway," Hiigari asks out of the blue. Mafuyu lifts his head from his notes on the work-in-progress song to see that the other boy hasn't moved from his spot on the floor, desperately trying to coax Kedama's attention away from Shizusumi. 

_Mom thought if I had something depending on me like Tama, I wouldn't follow along in Yuki's footsteps. That I wouldn't leave her and Tama like Yuki left me_. 

He doesn't say that. It's too blunt, too cruel, and Mafuyu knows it'll make Hiigari cry in less time than it takes to blink. 

"I wanted one, when I was little," he says instead, which isn't exactly untrue. He doesn't elaborate, but Hiigari and Shizusumi know him well enough not to need him to. 

"I think I remember that," Hiigari says, face scrunching up fondly. "Your mom said hell no, didn’t she? And then Yuki went on this whole campaign to get a dog, so that you could play with his.” He says it easily, like it doesn’t hurt - Mafuyu thinks Hiiragi might forget, for a moment, that Yuki’s gone, because his smile is wide and painless, his eyes bright as he starts to laugh, adding, “he threw the biggest shit-fit when his mom said no too."

Mafuyu doesn’t remember that, exactly, but it sounds like Yuki. He only vaguely remembers wanting a dog, but-

But god, that _sounds_ like Yuki.

(Mafuyu misses him. 

Mafuyu misses him every _fucking_ day.)

Mafuyu can see the exact second Hiiragi slams back into the present, the grief dropping back over him like a veil. Hiiragi sniffles suddenly, jaw clenched as his eyes water, something Mafuyu can see even as the other boy looks everywhere but at him. He’s always been so easy to cry, Mafuyu thinks, and most days he doesn’t know if he envies Hiiragi that trait or not.

Shizusumi huffs out a breath as quiet as a mouse before muttering, “c’mere.” He deposits Kedama on the ground and then reels Hiiragi in by grabbing at the sleeve of the overly large hoodie Hiiragi’s wearing, the one Mafuyu is convinced is Shizusumi’s to start with but Hiiragi won’t meet his pointed looks about it with anything but a stubborn pout. 

Hiiragi goes, sliding into Shizusumi’s shoulder like a fitful landslide, burying his face in the juncture of the other boy’s shoulder and neck. Mafuyu smiles a little bit, mostly because Hiiragi can’t see him, and Shizusumi meets his gaze evenly, a sad sort of smile pulling at his own lips.

“It’s okay,” he hears Shizusumi murmur quietly as his hand drags up and down Hiiragi’s back. “It’s okay.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Hiiragi hisses back, but his voice wobbles and breaks, misery a crashing wave against the otherwise quiet shore of Mafuyu’s bedroom. “Just- just gimmie a minute, god-”

Mafuyu looks away. It doesn’t make him uncomfortable, exactly, to see Hiiragi and Shizusumi so close, but that doesn’t mean it’s comfortable, listening to Hiiragi sniffle and Shizusumi murmur reassurances. To distract himself he leans over to put the song notes on the edge of his desk and then looks down to his phone out to the side where he sits on his bed, listening to Kedama puff out a breath with effort as he hops up to join him. 

There’s a notification displayed on the screen from his LINE app. It looks like it’s been ten or eleven minutes since it’s buzzed, but Mafuyu doesn’t remember feeling it. The uneven pile of his blankets at the end of the bed must have muffled the sensation. 

Plucking the phone up from his bed, he taps at the screen, unlocking it as Kedama tries to wriggle his way into Mafuyu’s lap.

 _from: uenoyama ritsuka_ _♡_ _  
how do you feel about stale convenience store buns? i have way too many to eat on my own_

Mafuyu swallows back a laugh, not sure if he should be glad it’s not cheap probably-expired bentos. 

_to: uenoyama ritsuka_ _♡_ _  
i feel like haruki was right, you and akihiko eat too much convenience store food_

_to: uenoyama ritsuka_ _♡_ _  
but if it keeps you from eating them all yourself i’ll take some_

Even though his response is more than a few minutes late, Ritsuka responds promptly, sending back a sticker of a pouty face that makes it impossible to keep a grin off his own face. Mafuyu taps on the sticker icon and then scrolls, looking for the one he knows blows a kiss in its little animation. 

Ritsuka’s response is to send back a sticker that falls over dead. He also sends an animated blushing heart sticker.

(Mafuyu loves him.

Mafuyu loves him so _fucking_ much.)

“Are you _seriously_ texting right now,” Hiiragi complains loudly. Mafuyu lifts his head to see that the other boy is slumped against Shizusumi’s shoulder, scrubbing at his face. Mafuyu shrugs, tapping out a quick love you to Ritsuka before he sets his phone aside to finally give Kedama the attention he’s looking for.

“Yes,” Mafuyu answers simply. “Why? Did you want me to watch you cry again?”

“You are such a jerk,” Hiiragi complains, but he’s smiling when he drops his arm in his lap, even though his face is blotchy and red from crying. Mafuyu shrugs again, unconcerned by the name calling. 

“If I’m such a jerk, why are you here,” he muses, trying to find the spot on Kedama’s back that sets his leg to kicking. He can’t find it from this angle, but he knows it’s here somewhere-

“Because we’re your _friends_ ,” Hiiragi yells immediately, either not registering or not caring that Mafuyu’s teasing him. 

When Mafuyu looks at him Shizusumi simply answers, “I only came to see Tama and be Hiiragi's human tissue.”

“Ah, understandable,” Mafuyu says, nodding knowingly. Hiiragi squawks, whirling around to shout something like _you’re the one who suggested we visit today!_ , but Mafuyu isn’t really listening.

He cranes his head, unsure if he’d heard what he thought he had but then-

“Ah, Tama,” he mumbles as the little puppy in question jolts upright and then makes a break for his bedroom door. The sound of small toenails clicking against the floor seems loud, but that just might be in Mafuyu’s head. “Tama, what-”

The sound comes again, more distinct this time. 

Someone’s knocking on the front door.

“Tama,” Mafuyu calls again, following on the heels of his puppy. His socked feet don’t make any noise against the hardwood floor, but the soft sound of little yips fills the halls anyway. “Tama, come on, get away from the door, what if you get out-”

The knocking stops a few seconds before Mafuyu gets close enough to open it. He skids a little bit in his socks as he steps down to the front door, nudging aside Hiiragi’s shoes and trying to keep Kedama back as he peeks through the peep-hole. 

Kedama yips once more before falling quiet, crowding up against Mafuyu’s legs until his panting breath falls warm on the outside of his sweatpants. 

Through the peep-hole a distorted version of Ritsuka stands, hair windswept and scarf half falling off his shoulders. Mafuyu feels his heart kick up into the back of his throat and before he knows it he’s scrambling at the locks, fingers jittering with excitement like they did when Ritsuka used to teach him new chords.

“Hey,” Ritsuka says, when Mafuyu successfully pulls the door open. He’s bending down before he’s finished speaking, shifting one arm open against his side to catch-

“ _Tama_ ,” Mafuyu shouts, this time with agitation. Ritsuka just laughs, catching the puppy mid-jump as if he’d been expecting the little guy to jump for his face the whole time. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got him,” Ritsuka says, tucking the dog up against his chest. Kedama gives a joyous _yip!_ and snuggles up into Ritsuka’s scarf, looking distinctly smug as he noses along the other boy’s throat and jaw. Ritsuka laughs again, bouncing the dog gently in his arms, and then looks up at Mafuyu from his spot half-crouched on the doorstep, plastic bags hanging from his other wrist.

“Sorry I didn’t give you any real warning I was coming over,” Ritsuka says, levering himself upright, “but I got off work early since I was only covering a half-shift.” He gets to his feet, ducks his head to press a fleeting kiss against Kedama’s head in a familiar easy manner, and then adds, “are you-”

He stops, words coming to a staggering halt. A funny expression crosses his face, eyebrows furrowing over bright eyes as his mouth hangs open, just a little. His eyes, Mafuyu realizes after a second, are trained on a spot just over Mafuyu’s shoulder.

 _Oh no_ , Mafuyu thinks, twisting his head around. _Please don’t tell me-_

Hiiragi and Shizusumi peer out from around the edge of Mafuyu’s bedroom door like a pair of cartoon characters, both of them crouched low to the ground with Shizusumi’s head perched just above Hiiragi’s. They jolt when they realize Mafuyu’s spotted them, Hiiragi’s cheeks puffing out while Shizusumi gives Mafuyu his version of a shit-eating grin, which mostly means he arches his eyebrows a little and lets the corner of his mouth twitch up just enough to spot. 

“Oh,” Ritsuka says. When Mafuyu’s turned around he’s making a small face, like he doesn’t know how to deal with what Mafuyu’s friends are doing either. “I can just drop these off then if you want-”

Wordlessly Mafuyu reaches out, curls his fingers around the bottom of Ritsuka’s jacket, and hauls him inside.

Ritsuka staggers inside as if he was half Mafuyu’s size, as if Mafuyu has ever had a chance in hell at truly manhandling him around when Ritsuka didn’t want to go somewhere, and even shuffles generously out of the way so Mafuyu can kick the door closed without letting go of his jacket.

“Guess that answers that question,” his boyfriend mutters, quiet enough that Mafuyu nearly doesn’t catch it. He straightens, not seeming to mind the way Kedama wriggles up to lick at the side of his face, and before Mafuyu knows he’s doing it he finds himself curling forward, freeing Ritsuka from his puppy's affectionate kisses and, in the same absent-minded motion, leaning forward to press a quick kiss against Ritsuka’s opposite cheek.

Ritsuka turns his head into Mafuyu’s kiss for a moment, his lips brushing the corner of Mafuyu’s mouth, and then he leans back, lifting the hand with the plastic bags hanging off his wrist to rub at the back of his neck.

But he doesn’t offer to leave again, like Mafuyu expects him to, like he has nearly every other time he’s run across Hiiragi and Shizusumi hanging out.

Mafuyu feels his chest go breathless and tight with affection. He can’t stop himself from smiling, even as Kedama shows his displeasure in losing his favorite push-over human by yipping right in Mafuyu’s ear.

“I have, as promised, entirely too many convenience store sweet buns,” Ritsuka announces, gesturing with the arm laden with bags and letting the rustle of the plastic speak for itself. Mafuyu rolls his eyes and ducks to drop Kedama on the ground, reaching over to take the bags from Ritsuka’s wrist as Ritsuka starts to kick off his shoes and shed his jacket and scarf.

“Are they _all_ sweet buns,” Hiiragi asks distastefully, narrowing his eyes like he was raised by _wolves_. His mother would be so ashamed of his behavior, Mafuyu thinks.

It’d almost be worth it to text her and tell her.

Almost, but not quite. 

“I don’t think so,” Ritsuka answers, trying to nudge his shoes into a neat line against the wall and having all his work be immediately derailed by Kedama, who hops forward and snags his teeth around Ritsuka’s laces to tug the shoe back down the hall. “Oi, Tama, what do you think you’re doing? You have toys for that kind of thing, silly boy. C’mere-”

Mafuyu peeks in the plastic bags while Ritsuka takes longer than strictly necessary wrestling his shoe back from the puppy that’s maybe, at most, a tenth of his size. “There are red bean paste ones too,” Mafuyu announces, reaching in to fish one out.

Hiiragi almost falls over into the hallway in his haste to hold his hands up, the silent _throw it here_ visible in every line of his slumped body. Mafuyu thinks he probably would’ve cracked his skull open on the hardwood floor if it hadn’t been for Shizusumi, who curls an arm around Hiiragi’s waist and levers him back upright when he dips down. 

Mafuyu gives his friends a flat, disbelieving look, but he throws the red bean paste bun nonetheless. 

If he aims for Hiiragi’s head instead of his hands, well. That’s what the idiot deserves.

Hiiragi’s yelp is loud in the enclosed space of the hallway and it sets off Kedama yipping too, until the little dog is bouncing around Ritsuka’s heels like a wind-up toy. Hiiragi is yelling how could you do this to me, you hit me in the fucking face while Shizusumi displays his talent of sighing the Loudest Sighs Ever, the kind that carry the heaviest weight of his disappointment.

Mafuyu has never really been embarrassed to know them before, but he kind of is right now.

Then again - Mafuyu remembers what Haruki and Akihiko were like the first time he came to the studio and Ritsuka still to this day thinks that the two older men are the definition of _cool_. 

“Please forgive him,” Shizusumi says as he hauls Hiiragi upright and then bodily moves him out of the doorway of Mafuyu’s room and back out of sight, if not out of hearing range. “He’s-”

 _“I’m what,_ ” Hiiragi yells loudly, voice distorted as it echoes out of the room. _“I’m_ what _Shizu, tell me what I am-”_

“He’s annoying,” Mafuyu finishes for him, as Shizusumi disappears back into the room as well, leaving him and Ritsuka standing in the hallway with what appears to be three plastic bags crammed full of convenience store buns and an overly excited puppy. 

Ritsuka laughs, the sound quiet and a little sheepish as he hangs up his jacket on a peg by the door and drapes his flimsy, thread-bare scarf overtop of it. “You’ve spent almost every other lunch humoring Sho’s basketball obsession,” his boyfriend mutters, warm and fond even as the bitter chill of winter clings to the apples of his cheeks and turns them a wind-raw red. “I think I can handle Kashima.”

Even so, Ritsuka says it quietly, so the other boy doesn’t hear, and Mafuyu can’t help but laugh at that fact, shuffling closer and pressing forward to press his face against Ritsuka’s shoulder, just above his armpit.

“M’glad you came to visit,” Mafuyu tells him quietly. 

Ritsuka hums, wraps his arms around Mafuyu’s shoulders in a brief but solid hug, and murmurs back, “anytime.”

“Oi, are you two gonna get your asses in here or _what_ ,” Hiiragi yells. Mafuyu pulls away from Ritsuka with gritted teeth, rolling his eyes as he turns on his heel to march his way back to his room. Ritsuka follows on his heels, huffing out a quiet breath that might be a laugh as Kedama scrambles over his own paws to keep up with them.

Hiiragi and Shizusumi have reclaimed their previous spots on the floor beside Mafuyu’s bed, leaving the bed, the chair to the desk Mafuyu got a little while ago, and a small space on the ground open. Hiiragi’s already devoured the red bean paste bun Mafuyu threw at his head and he holds out his hands for another, fingers twitching in the classic grabby-grabby motion little kids make.

Mafuyu takes one of the bags and slings it forward, letting it go perfectly so that it flies through the air and hits Hiiragi in the gut.

Or it would have. Shizusumi snaps his hand out at the last minute, cushioning the blow so that Hiiragi only squeaks in surprise instead of having the wind knocked out of him by what’s probably ten to twenty pre-packaged buns. 

“ _Oof_ ,” Hiiragi hisses, curling around the plastic bag like a pill bug. He straightens, just enough to dig into it and pull out another red bean paste on, and then declares, “Shizu is the only loyal hoe I know.”

Shizusumi grimaces and takes his arm back from around Hiiragi’s shoulder. Mafuyu gives the other boy a look of shared misery, but both of these things are lost on Hiiragi, who appears to be in red bean paste bun heaven and blind to their pain.

Ritsuka, meanwhile, starts picking his way across Mafuyu's room with an easy, practiced confidence. He walks like he's familiar with the layout, like he isn't nervous to have Mafuyu's childhood friends scrutinizing his every move, even though at this point Shizusumi is the only one watching him and that's only a kind-of-absent sort of observation.

Mafuyu knows he is though. He's putting up a good front, but after months spent around Akihiko Mafuyu knows how to pick out the moments when Ritsuka emulates the man on purpose and when he does it out of shared-space familiarity. 

But Mafuyu doesn't mind. It's kind of cute, the way his boyfriend wants to act cool and impressive for his friends. 

Even if the whole cool guy image is thoroughly ruined by Kedama trotting eagerly at his heels like a little ball of fluff. And even if the act is completely lost on Hiiragi, who’s abandoned his own need to be the coolest one in the room in an effort to stuff his face.

Ritsuka’s almost to the empty desk chair when he draws up short and then, all at once, lurches forward.

“Are these my music notes,” Ritsuka asks, the cool-guy facade falling away as he scrunches up his eyebrows in confusion. He’s holding up Mafuyu’s notebook, the one he’s started to fill up with notes and tricks he’s learning at band practice, and though there’s nothing accusatory in the tone, Mafuyu can see both Hiiragi and Shizusumi stiffen in response.

“No,” Mafuyu says, picking his way across the room to settle back on the end of his bed, by his desk. “It’s my sheet music.”

Ritsuka makes an expression of clear and utter horror, seemingly at a loss for words. Mafuyu feels himself frown, even as he cranes his neck to make sure Ritsuka’s holding up the same notebook Mafuyu put aside earlier. He is.

"Oh is _that_ what that is," Hiigari blurts out, speaking sloppily around the last bite of his third bun, looking both relieved and confused in equally staggering parts. "I've been trying to figure that out all afternoon! What the hell kind of sheet music is that anyway?"

"That's how you write music," Mafuyu tells Ritsuka, ignoring Hiiargi completely. He knows he sounds mullish when he says it, but he can't exactly help it. It's true, after all - all of Ritsuka's song notes look like that. 

"It's _gibberish_ ," Ritsuka grimaces, shaking the notebook at Mafuyu, but gently, like he knows somewhere in the back of his brain it's still important to be gentle. "I pick songs apart by sound, it's how I taught myself. God, Haruki and Akihiko are gonna be all over my ass when they realize I taught you my fucked up shorthand on accident. They hate it when I transcribe shit like this."

Mafuyu feels his eyebrows furrow and can’t really help it. “It’s _not_ gibberish,” he argues, because it’s not - he knows exactly what those notes mean, because Ritsuka took the time at the beginning of their lessons to explain what each of his marks and scribbles meant. “It makes sense to me.”

Ritsuka stares at him for a long moment, one that stretches to the edges of being uncomfortable, and then, all of a sudden, snorts.

“Well I’m glad it makes sense to someone,” he mutters, dropping the notebook carefully back in its place on Mafuyu’s desk before bending down to pick up Kedama, who’s been pawing desperately at his legs this whole time. “But for Haruki and Akihiko’s sake I should probably make sure you know how to actually write sheet music. They’re kind of stuck up about things like that.”

Mafuyu feels his cheeks puff out before he can stop them, the words coming out snappy and sharp when he says, “I _can_ write sheet music!”

Silence hangs, crystal sharp, above their heads. It dangles there, glittering like icicles in the snow, looming with the promise of danger and pain.

Or it would, Mafuyu thinks, except that the second it starts to stretch, taut like a string about to snap, Ritsuka gives a short hollow laugh and says, “okay, okay, that’s fair, I’m being a jackass, aren’t I? Sorry, I just can’t believe you picked up my shorthand for music without me noticing. Some teacher I am.”

Kedama yips in his lap, likely responding to the way Ritsuka sort of laughs again at the end of his statement, and Mafuyu watches his boyfriend duck his head a little bit as the other boy murmurs, “yeah, that’s right, Tama, I did tell him I’d be shit at this, didn’t I? Your dad doesn’t listen that well when it suits him, hm?”

Mafuyu fishes a sweet bun out of one of the plastic bag he’d dumped beside him and then chucks it carefully at Ritsuka’s head. It misses, of course, but then again he’d meant for it to miss, and it goes sailing past his shoulder to tumble harmlessly against the top of his desk.

“Stop filling my son’s head with lies,” Mafuyu says, taking a deep, even breath as he does so.

(His lungs don’t burn, as he breathes, and his hands don’t shake. It’s nothing at all like the train station was that night, the chilly wind whipping past and biting into his bones, even through his clothes.

It’s nothing at all like it. But for a second, Mafuyu had felt the sting of the wind anyway.

Now, though, all he feels is muted, careful warmth.)

Ritsuka laughs, a sound that trembles around the edges, and then he balances Kedama on his lap with one hand and reaches around him to fish out the sweet bun with the other. 

“I’m not filling your son’s head with lies,” the other boy answers, tearing the plastic packaging open with his teeth as his other hand expertly keeps the tiny puppy from wriggling off his lap. He looks like he has too much practice doing such a thing and now that Mafuyu thinks about it he’s almost positive he’s seen Ritsuka eat these same sweet buns as he writes music, one hand wrapped around the fretboard of his guitar while the other brings the food to his mouth. 

“You’re _slandering_ my name to him,” Mafuyu insists, peering into the bag and then deciding a sweet bun doesn’t sound so bad after all. “I could file for defamation, you know.”

Ritsuka laughs, the kind of laugh that wrinkles out the bridge of his nose, and manages to find the spot on Kedama’s back that makes his legs thump-kick even though he’s only got one hand.

“I’m not _slandering_ your name,” his boyfriend argues back, “I’m just saying, I tried to warn you I’d teach you guitar all wrong!” He pauses, takes a bite out of the bun in his other hand, and in the dip of conversation Mafuyu suddenly notices that Hiiragi and Shizusumi are both staring at them, eyes wide and mouths slightly open as their gazes ping-pong between the two of them like spectators at a tennis match.

The way they look at him is particularly unsettling, he thinks with an ache in his lungs.

They look at him like they’ve never seen him before in their lives. Like they’re strangers instead of childhood friends.

(Like whoever he is, he’s not the Mafuyu they know, not the Mafuyu Yuki _loved_.)

“To be fair, though,” Ritsuka says, before Mafuyu can start falling down the worry-spiral of wondering if he’s changed so much in the last year and a half to make himself unrecognizable to everyone who’s ever loved him, “the only real use in reading sheet music is sight reading contests anyway, so I guess you knowing my shorthand version best isn’t that big of a deal."

Hiiragi, apparently reaching his limit, explodes.

" _Genuinely_ ,” he says, gesturing with an empty plastic wrapper in the air in front of him, “who the _fuck_ are you? I- _sight reading competitions_? There are way more uses to sheet music than that!”

Ritsuka jolts a little, like he’d forgotten Hiiragi and Shizusumi were present, and then gives an artfully careless shrug, the kind that almost looks at home on his shoulders the way it always does on Akihiko’s.

“Not really,” Ritsuka answers, not unkindly but not without a small degree of arrogance. “I’ve always found memorizing more useful than carrying around a hundred pieces of paper. Not like you can bring it on stage with you anyway.”

Hiiragi makes a noise that's about ninety-percent disgust and ten-percent disbelief, shaking his head as Shizusumi does something complicated with his subtle expressions that looks vaguely amused. 

"But it gives you something to go back to," Hiiragi argues. "And it gives other people something to look at so that you can teach them how to play. It's like the first thing people learn when they start."

Mafuyu tenses, feeling a flash of agitation go through him as Ritsuka's shoulders tighten at the words. _Hey_ , he almost snaps, _leave him alone! He's been teaching me fine so far!_

But before he can though, Ritsuka just says, "so people keep telling me." He shoots Mafuyu a look as he speaks, one that seems to say _i told you so_ , and Mafuyu, in turn, gives him a look back that says _don't try me_.

Hiiragi seems to be gearing up to say something else, something Mafuyu is almost positive will piss him off, but thankfully Shizusumi cuts in before he can, asking quietly, "how long have you been playing guitar?"

Kedama kicks his legs hard enough he almost falls, but Ritsuka just rights him, shoving the last bite of the bun into his mouth and leaning over to toss the plastic wrapper into the little trash can to the side of the desk. "Uh," he says, as Kedama starts trying to chew on his hand again, just like he did all last week when Ritsuka visited, "four years? Wait, no, five? Five, I think."

Mafuyu watches Hiiragi and Shizusumi blink in surprise and wonders absently if they're surprised Ritsuka's played for so long or if they'd thought he'd been playing longer. Haruki had told him once that most people expected Ritsuka to have started earlier, especially considering the level he played at now, but Akihiko's always argued that to most people Mafuyu and Ritsuka's age five years seemed like an eon.

"Five years," Hiiragi repeats, audibly dumbfounded. Shizusumi makes a face that's almost a grimace, more than a little impressed by Mafuyu's boyfriend, and Mafuyu feels a warm tide crawl through his veins as pride for Ritsuka overtakes him. "Shit, how long have you been playing live?"

Ritsuka makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds half thoughtful and half embarrassed. In his lap Kedama wiggles about, back legs kicking, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he pants with delight. "Almost three years?"

Mafuyu feels a jolt of surprise himself, blinking a little as he imagines a tinier version of Ritsuka, guitar almost bigger than him as he stands up on a stage under those big bright lights. 

The image is so _cute_. Mafuyu almost wants to ask if Yayoi has any pictures of thirteen year old Ritsuka at his first concert. 

He'll do that later, he decides. When Hiigari and Shizusumi leave. For now-

"That's pretty impressive," Shizusumi says, nodding a little to himself even as Hiiragi tries to sputter and call it _not that cool!_ "I think I heard about you, actually. If you're as talented as everyone says, it's no wonder that Mafuyu's gotten so good so fast."

Ritsuka's face scrunches up, either at the mention that he's semi-infamous within the music community around town or at Hiiragi's protests. And then, in an easy and off-handed sort of manner, like most people comment on the weather, he says, "Mafuyu's gotten so good so fast because he's put in the effort to be good. It doesn't have anything to do with me."

This time the tide of heat that rips through him is so warm it nearly hurts, so strong and earth-shattering that Mafuyu almost keels over in surprise. He's not sure if it's pride or embarrassment or affection, but whatever it is, Mafuyu finds himself staring at Ritsuka, fingers curled in the bedspread beneath him like he's holding onto a lifeline. 

"Wasn't Tama enough," his mouth says, mostly on auto-pilot. "Or do you really have to fill Hiiragi and Shizu's heads with lies too?"

Ritsuka snorts and rolls his eyes at Mafuyu, picking up his head from looking at Kedama to meet Mafuyu's gaze. He wonders if Ritsuka can tell how he feels, filled to the brim and overflowing with something bright and warm and dazzling, growing out from the center of his chest. 

He thinks he might be able to. It's the only reason Mafuyu can see for Ritsuka to blush like his cheeks have caught fire and duck back over Kedama's body, eyes trained on the little puppy in his lap as he mutters, "your dad's so _dramatic_ , Tama, did you know that? I bet you do. I bet he's even more dramatic when there's no one but you to call him out, huh, boy?"

Hiiragi and Shizusumi are staring again and it doesn't seem to be at Ritsuka, who's using baby-talk as a way to hide how easily he flusters. Mafuyu tries not to feel self-conscious about the way their eyes drag over him, unfamiliar and unmoored, and mostly fails. 

But just as he's starting to squirm, Hiiragi spits, "you can't be _that_ great," and jabs a finger at Ritsuka, who lifts his head just enough to make an affronted face his way. "C'mon, if you're so good, sight read something for us!"

Ritsuka gives Hiiragi the same slightly-baffled look he gives the girls in his class when they tease him for always being so tired and ask him what keeps him up so late at night, like he's not even sure what words have just been said to him or why. "I'd be happy to," his boyfriend says eventually, only a little sarcastic, "but I didn't bring my guitar today."

Mafuyu, however, is already leaning off the end of his bed, already tugging the red guitar off the stand he bought for his room over the summer, and already shifting to hold it out Ritsuka's way. He isn't really thinking about the action at first - isn't really thinking at all past _Hiiragi and his big goddamn mouth, we'll show him_ and so it doesn't occur to him that he's doing something worth staring over until he realizes the room has gone still and quiet around him. 

Hiiragi and Shizusumi are still staring, but this time so is Ritsuka. Hiiragi and Shizusumi have progressed from staring at him as if they've never met him before to staring at him as if he's some kind of corpse that's pulled itself from the ground or a ghost come to haunt them. 

Ritsuka's staring at him the same way he did when they stumbled off stage at their first concert and Ritsuka kissed him for the first time - bright and intense and warm and soft, all at once. 

It's a look that sets fire to Mafuyu's veins, all over again. He hears an echo in his own ears, feels the phantom tingle of chapped, desperate lips stealing his _thank you for getting me this far_ right out of his mouth, and barely keeps himself from making a small noise in the back of his throat that would have probably meant to have been Ritsuka's name.

Carefully Ritsuka scoops Kedama up with one hand, drops a kiss in between his ears, and then leans forward to drop the puppy on the end of the bed. He uses the same leaning movement to take the guitar from Mafuyu, cradling it with both hands, just as sure and confident as he does with his own but infinitely more gentle. 

"Alright," he says, clearing his throat and tearing his gaze from Mafuyu, who can't bring himself to look away as Ritsuka wipes one hand on his pants leg and shifts to start tuning. He gestures with his foot at Hiiragi, close enough to the other two boys present that he could probably nudge them, and adds, "are you gonna find a song for me to sight read or what, Kashima?"

Hiiragi startles like he's been shocked and then jerkily pulls his phone from his pocket. He hunches over the screen, muttering to himself as he searches online for the sheet music to some song or another, while Shizusumi turns his head slightly as if trying to catch Mafuyu's eyes. 

Mafuyu looks away. He leans forward and scoops up Kedama before the puppy can make an attempt to jump back into Ritsuka's lap, guitar be damned, and listens to his boyfriend tune the guitar his dead ex-boyfriend's mom gave him. 

"Y'know, we gotta pick you up an amp or something," Ritsuka mutters absently, the words directed to the fretboard moreso than Mafuyu. He strums, hums to himself, twists a peg, and strums again. 

(Mafuyu misses Yuki, every goddamn day.

But fuck- _fuck_ , he loves Ritsuka so goddamn much.

He’s learned the hard way how life goes on even after someone’s gone, but a life without Ritsuka-

He doesn't want to _ever_ find out what that would be like.

He thinks he could probably survive it. But he doesn't want to have to either way.)

"Yeah," he echoes, part agreement, part question, and part tease. "You think I'm ready for that? You'd trust me with an at-home amp?"

Ritsuka glances up, blue eyes peering at Mafuyu through his bangs and lashes alike, and then makes a show of rolling his eyes and snorting. 

Mafuyu grins back, unable to stop himself even with Shizusumi still watching and Hiiragi barely-distracted with his phone, and only says, "that sounds nice though. Can we go look at them tomorrow?"

Ritsuka smiles like the sunrise, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds after a rainstorm, like the lights kicking on just before a concert starts. He smiles and he glances up through his lashes and he strums a chord - Mafuyu's favorite chord, the first one he heard, the first one he learned - and Mafuyu loves him. 

"Sounds good to me," Ritsuka says. And that's the last thing he manages before Hiiragi is hoisting himself up on his knees and shoving his phone in Ritsuka's face, asking if he's ever heard this song before. 

(Ritsuka hasn't heard that particular song before. 

But that doesn't stop him from nailing almost every note like he wrote it himself. 

Mafuyu is so smug he thinks it's probably obnoxious to be around. Hiiragi, meanwhile, is beside himself with indignation.

Ritsuka sight reads eight songs in total before Shizusumi drags Hiiragi home and every single note strikes an answering one in Mafuyu's chest that makes him itch for his childhood friends to leave so that he and Ritsuka can go back to writing their work-in-progress together.

If the look Ritsuka gives him overtop Hiiragi’s shouting head is anything, his boyfriend feels the same way.)

-

Mafuyu's in the back at work trying to take note of the snacks and drinks they need to order for the inventory when he hears Tsubaki exclaim, "well, well, _well_ , isn't this unusual? I only ever see you here if you're playing a gig, what gives?"

“I’ve come here before when I haven’t had a gig,” someone retorts hotly and Mafuyu feels himself jolt like a bolt of electricity’s gone through him as he recognizes that voice. 

Tsubaki laughs, a happy, dancing, trilling sound that suddenly and sharply leaves a sour taste in the back of Mafuyu’s mouth in a way that it hasn’t before. “Aw, don’t be so bristly, Uesama, or your cute little face might stick like that,” his coworker teases his boyfriend, sounding bubbly and friendly and warm. Her voice drops the next moment, something soft enough that Mafuyu finds himself shuffling toward the door to keep listening without meaning to as she adds, “ _actually_ , since you’re here, I’ve got a question for you, sweetpea.”

(Tsubaki’s called him sweatpea before - called him sweetheart, sugar, honeybunch and a load of other silly little endearments in that thread. It’s always been bright and slightly teasing, always been friendly and almost sisterly as she took him under her wing and taught him how to set up the stage for a band or make the house’s special hot chocolate as the weather got colder and colder and colder.

They’ve never fallen like a stone in his stomach before now. 

He doesn’t really like it. 

He doesn’t really like it at all.)

He hears Ritsuka sigh, a long suffering sort of noise, and then his boyfriend goes, “why do I feel like it’s not gonna be an easy question?”

Tsubaki laughs again, the sound of her hands clapping together in delight a noise that knocks through Mafuyu’s bones like the strike of a hammer. He shuffles forward again, towards the open door to the space behind the bar, and can’t stop himself from peering through, even though he wants to.

Ritsuka is standing, wind-rumpled and gorgeous, with his hands braced against the edge of the bar. He’s got his thread-bare scarf still wound around his neck, a pair of gloves and a lumpy looking hat sticking out of his pocket. Tsubaki’s leaning over the bar, elbows propped up while she holds her chin in one palm and the grin that cuts her face is sly and sweet, eyelashes fluttering as she teases, “don’t be so _grumpy_ , honey, it’s only a lil' question.”

Before Mafuyu can react to that beyond a flash of cringing, wriggling discomfort, Tsubaki purrs, “Uesama, is your gorgeous sister single?”

The world stops.

 _What_?

“No,” Ritsuka says, easy and immediate, like the world hasn’t come to a crashing, weak-kneed-with-relief halt for him. 

Tsubaki clicks her tongue in annoyance and deflates a little against the counter. “No she’s not single or no you don’t wanna tell me?”

“ _No_ ,” Ritsuka repeats and his mouth is tugging into a grimace as his eyebrows furrow down over his bright blue eyes. “God, now I’m imagining it and that would be _awful_.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Tsubaki yelps, shoving herself upright to try and match Ritsuka’s towering height. She doesn’t manage it, not really, but she puffs out her cheeks as she tries, reaching across the counter to poke at his chest with a familiar easy manner that suddenly doesn’t bother Mafuyu as much as it might have had a moment ago. His relief is embarrassing and gritty against the back of his throat, but it's easier to breathe now, easier to enjoy the wrinkle of Ritsuka's nose as he shudders dramatically while Tsubaki yells, “what’s _that_ supposed to mean, buster? You think I’m not good enough for your sister?”

“You’re probably too good for my sister,” Ritsuka mutters, rolling his eyes as he leans back out of Tsubaki’s reach so she can’t keep jabbing her finger against his chest. “And the last thing I need is her hanging out here with you and Mafuyu, thanks. She meddles enough as is through Akihiko.”

Mafuyu can’t help but laugh at that, sharp and sudden, the sound half smothered by his hand to hide how it trembles with the force of his relief. _Oh thank god_ , he thinks as he slumps against the doorframe and watches Ritsuka swat at Tsubaki’s hand as she reaches beseechingly out to him. 

(The only thing Mafuyu was ever jealous about with Yuki was music. 

People flocked to Yuki, to his energy, to the way he demanded and commanded a room's attention. It had never bothered Mafuyu when people fawned over him or tried to flirt with him because at the end of the day, Yuki had always come back to him. 

Until, of course, he didn't. 

Ritsuka is different, so very different - he likes people well enough, but he seems to like them best when they’re flocking to someone else and leaving him to do his own thing. People are still drawn to him, but they’re drawn to his kindness and patience, whereas with Yuki it had been his flashy presence and charisma. 

With Ritsuka Mafuyu never feels jealous of the music he plays, because Ritsuka does so much to make sure Mafuyu can play it too. It's something Ritsuka shares with him, something they're doing together every step of the way. 

But he does, apparently, feel a flare of jealousy at the idea of someone else flirting with Ritsuka.

At the idea that, just for a second, he'd been nearly sure Tsubaki was going to ask Ritsuka out.

It had happened occasionally with Yuki in middle school - some girl would come forward, blushing but determined, and Mafuyu would listen to Yuki turn her down. It had never really been comfortable at the time, but it had also never stung quite like this either. 

_This_ , he thinks to himself, _is a note I will need to work on._

The only way to turn a bad note into a good note is to keep playing or ask for help. 

So that’s what he’s going to do. He’s going to take a deep breath, rearrange his grip on the situation, and try again.

 _Bad note, good note,_ he remembers his therapist saying. _All that matters is you keep playing_.)

“You’re so mean, Uesama,” Tsubaki grumbles as she drops back down on her heels and crosses her arms over her chest. She looks like she’s their age when she pouts, huffing hard enough to make her bangs bounce against her forehead. She’s giving Ritsuka a dirty look that promises retribution for this slight and Mafuyu wonders absently just how interconnected the music community in this city really is, since they both seem to know each other fairly well.

“Probably,” Ritsuka agrees, grinning with his eyes if not his mouth as he settles comfortably back against the edge of the bar counter. 

Tsubaki snorts quietly, a bright bubble of laughter bouncing her shoulders, and then she seems to shrug off her ire completely, going back to straightening up the bar from the night’s concert instead. “It’s okay,” she says, back to grinning teasingly Ritsuka’s way, “there’s no way you can keep her from your next concert, right? Even if you don’t invite her, Akihiko will, and he’ll be happy to introduce me if you won’t.”

Ritsuka’s dismay is immediate and evident as he drops his head back and lets out a low, guttural groan. Tsubaki laughs again at his reaction, snorting a little bit into her own hand like she can’t help it, and once Ritsuka’s picked his head back up and fixed her with a look that says _I’m beaten but I don’t have to like it_ , she leans over and ruffles his hair by bouncing up on her tiptoes and leaning one hand on the bar counter.

“There, there, sugarplum,” the older woman coos, “I promise I’ll treat your sister right and try to keep her meddling to a minimum.” Ritsuka bears her hair ruffling with the same grace Kedama bears being taken to the vet - with an expression like he’s going to the hangman’s gallows and eyes that promise swift and absolute revenge. 

“You have to get her to say yes to a date first,” Ritsuka grumbles, reaching up to try and right his hair once Tsubaki settles back down. He says it confidently, like he’s sure Yayoi will say no to Tsubaki’s advances, but Mafuyu knows that look in Ritsuka’s eyes and he knows for a fact he’s faking that confidence to cover up the fact that he’s absolutely and utterly screwed.

It’s enough to make Mafuyu swallow back a little laugh, even if the idea of having Yayoi hang out here with Tsubaki all the time sounds a little terrifying. 

“Let me worry about that, hm?” She flaps her hands around, shakes one of the bar cleaning rags at Ritsuka with enough energy to make him lean back a little, and then says, “anyway, what are you doing here? I was joking earlier, but you really do never show up unless you’re playing, so what can I do for you?”

Ritsuka grimaces again, eyebrows scrunching up as he does, and Mafuyu watches him chew over his words for a moment, trying to weigh honesty against being discreet the way Haruki keeps begging them to be. It’s kind of cute, the way he narrows his eyes in thought, and Mafuyu finds himself smiling quietly to himself as he watches Ritsuka visibly come to a decision.

“Mafuyu forgot his scarf and gloves at school,” Ritsuka admits, his voice dropping into something quiet and soft in a way that Mafuyu thinks he might not be self-aware enough to realize is the biggest tip-off to his feelings. “I thought I’d, uh, bring them by since I get off work before he does.”

Tsubaki stares at Ritsuka for a moment, mouth slightly parted and eyes a little wide, and then she seems to melt in place, shoulders dropping as her lips curve in a small, sweet smile.

 _That’s adorable_ , her face says, even as her eyebrows arch a little with curiosity. She doesn’t ask though, only waves her hand behind her and says, “he’s in the back, want me to get him?”

Mafuyu slips back, out of sight of the door before anyone can see him, heart twisting fondly in his chest as he listens to Ritsuka murmur, “no, I can wait, I don’t mind. I was gonna walk him home anyway.”

There’s a pause, long enough for Mafuyu to wonder what kind of face Tsubaki’s making, long enough for Mafuyu to imagine Akihiko’s going to be getting some very curious text messages later after they leave, and then Tsubaki says, “well, he’s good to go once inventory gets done, so why don’t you pull up a stool. Want anything to drink while you wait? I made up some coffee for myself a little while ago.”

Mafuyu presses off the wall and gets back to taking inventory with a smile on his lips. It takes him another ten minutes or so to make sure he’s got everything written down and to start the order on the computer in the back, but once he’s done he heads back for the door to the front, smiling enough for his cheeks to hurt as he spots Ritsuka slouched on one of the bar stools with his hands wrapped around a cooling mug of coffee.

Ritsuka jolts when he sees him, a little bounce of his shoulders and shake of his head, and then a smile blooms on his lips, bright and crooked and slightly shy. “Hey,” Ritsuka murmurs, seeming to forget that Tsubaki is right there and watching them with entirely too much interest. 

Mafuyu presses his lips together to try and control his answering smile, shuffling up to lean on the bar next to Tsubaki. “Hi,” he answers, quiet and happy. And then, with a pointed glance down at the bundle Mafuyu can now see in Ritsuka’s lap, the tangle of fabric that is the scarf and gloves Mafuyu left at school mixed in with one of Ritsuka’s extra beanies, he adds, “you know, I could have survived one night. I wouldn’t have frozen to death or anything.”

Pink colors Ritsuka’s cheeks, just a little bit, just enough to be distractingly attractive as he scrunches up his nose and scowls Mafuyu’s way. And then, all at once, he snorts out a noise that’s kind of a sigh and kind of a laugh all at once and admits, “maybe. But I wanted to see you anyway, so.”

It’s Mafuyu’s turn to feel his cheeks heat, to know that they’re probably turning pink like he’s ducked his head outside in the path of the cold winds no doubt filling the streets outside. He hums for a moment, trying to chew through what he really he wants to say - _i love you, i love you, i love you_ \- and then ducks his head to look up at Ritsuka through his lashes as he murmurs, “thank you.”

Tsubaki’s attempts not to interrupt and coo at them are a physical thing Mafuyu can feel manifesting against his shoulders, like she’s clamped her hands there and is trembling with the effort it takes not to shake them. He glances to the side, eyebrows arching a little bit in his best innocent expression, and finds that she’s staring at them both with slightly wide eyes, lips parted like she has something to say but doesn’t know how.

It’s an expression that settles in the pit of Mafuyu’s stomach, not quite with the same weight of a stone, but a little heavy nonetheless. Quietly he swallows and then he asks, like he hadn’t been eavesdropping at the door ten minutes ago, “is there anything else you need me for?”

Tsubaki seems to shake herself, seems to comb her fingers through her own thoughts and shuffle them back around, and then she gives Mafuyu a smile that’s blinding and sweet as she reaches out and ruffles his hair, just like she did Ritsuka’s earlier.

“Nah, you’re good to go, sweetheart,” she says, looking at him with bright, happy eyes that seem to be trying to convey something to him without words. _Good job_ maybe or _I’m happy for you_ , but Mafuyu isn’t sure and he’s not sure how to ask. “Go grab your stuff from the back and head home. I’ll see you Wednesday, okay?” She gives him a little shove, grins when he reaches up to set his hair back to rights with one hand, and then as he’s turning away, she twists to address Ritsuka and adds, “and I’ll see _you_ later too, won’t I, Uesama?”

The grin she says that with is wide and smug, like the Cheshire Cat’s mischief and mirth has been condensed into the body of a tiny twenty-one year old musician. 

The last thing that Mafuyu sees before he ducks back through the door to grab his jacket and guitar case is Ritsuka grimace, shoulders hunching up to his ears as the faint pink color of his cheeks bleeds into a warm, dusty kind of red.

(On the way home they walk hand-in-hand, arms swinging a little as the biting bitter wind snags at the ends of their scarves and bites at the little bits of skin exposed.

They’re standing at a crosswalk when Mafuyu starts shifting around, trying to roll his shoulders under the weight of the guitar on his back. There’s a dull ache in his spine, a stiffness in his shoulders, likely from lifting boxes in the back all afternoon, and while the weight of the guitar case is familiar, it’s also just heavy enough to add to the hurt. 

“Hey,” Ritsuka murmurs, his voice pitched low and gentle as he squeezes at Mafuyu’s fingers to get his attention. “Do you- do you want me to carry it?”

Mafuyu presses his lips together, tries to sort through the confusing flash of feelings that spring up at the suggestion - _fear and grief and relief and love and trust and guilt and pain_ \- and then squeezes Ritsuka’s fingers back. 

“Not today,” he says, honest and gentle. He thinks the words might come out a little sad, because Ritsuka’s face twists in a way that makes his stomach clench, but he doesn’t mean them to be sad. And then, just as quiet, he says, “thank you for being here.”

Ritsuka squeezes Mafuyu’s fingers through the weight of both of their gloves hard enough to ache, but Mafuyu doesn’t care, squeezing back just as hard as he leans into Ritsuka’s shoulder and presses his head against the fraying, thin-fabric bundle of the other boy’s scarf.

“Of course,” Ritsuka murmurs back, ducking his head down until Mafuyu can feel the brush of the other boy’s hat against his cheek. There’s a pressure, faint and reassuring, against his own hat, like Ritsuka’s dropped a kiss there, and then Ritsuka promises quietly, “anytime, Mafuyu. Anytime.”

They miss the walk sign, standing pressed together like that, whispering in the cold, but Mafuyu doesn’t care. They just stand together, hands intertwined as cars drive past, and wait for the next one.)

-

Mafuyu wakes up the morning after their latest concert to the bed shifting and dipping with the weight of another body leaving it. 

"Tama, Tama, c'mon," Mafuyu hears Ritsuka mumble. It's dark, beyond Mafuyu's eyelids, with just a hint of color and light. He feels the brush of Ritsuka's hand against his temple, calluses catching Mafuyu's sleep mused hair, and he only has a second to lean into that touch before it’s gone entirely. 

Mafuyu listens to the sound of Ritsuka trying to corral Kedama out of the room, listens to the soft and sweet tone he always uses when he's talking to the little puppy. 

"C'mon, Tama, _c'mon_ , no barking, okay? Your dad's still sleeping and he's earned it, bud. You should've seen him up there, he was _incredible_." Ritsuka laughs, low and warm and buzzing like an amp, and adds, so quiet Mafuyu thinks he might dream it, "you've got a pretty cool dad, Tama, you know that? Way cooler than I am.” There’s a pause, like the moment in one of their songs where everything falls away, and when Ritsuka speaks again, it’s softer and sounds almost sad as he murmurs, “sometimes I wonder what he's doing with me."

Kedama, despite his instructions otherwise, barks quietly in response. Ritsuka laughs, a trembling huff of a thing, and Mafuyu thinks _you make me happy_ and _you're the coolest person I've ever met_ and _why do we have to always know what we're doing, why can't we just figure it out together along the way._

He doesn't know if he'll remember this when he wakes up, but he hopes he does. And then, between one breath and the next, he fades back to sleep. 

He wakes again, somehow more fuzzy-headed than the last time, as Ritsuka crawls back into bed. 

" _Fuck_ , it's cold," Ritsuka swears, voice pitched low like he's talking to himself. "Tama, I've changed my mind; next time wake up your dad when you gotta pee, okay?"

"No," Mafuyu slurs, turning over as Ritsuka's ice-cold hands find the edge of Mafuyu's shirt and slip underneath. He squirms, winding his arm around Ritsuka's waist even though the icy weather outside is clinging to every last bit of him. 

Ritsuka snorts, a burst of warm air against the top of his head as he presses his face there. "G'morning to you too," he mutters, the words half lost in Mafuyu’s hair and the pillow underneath them alike. 

“Mhm,” Mafuyu answers, to the best of his abilities. And then as he tucks his head against the edge of Ritsuka’s shirt, lips pressed absently against the other boy’s collarbone, he adds, “ _sleep_.”

Ritsuka’s laughter feels larger-than-life when they’re pressed this close together, even when Mafuyu knows he’s holding it back and quieting it for Mafuyu’s sleepy sensibilities. Ritsuka’s hand drags up and down his back, cold as all hell but comforting nonetheless in its familiarity. His boyfriend drops another kiss against his hair, then another, and then another, cuddling closer and closer until Mafuyu thinks he can feel the edges of the other’s grin pressed against his skull.

“Sleep,” Ritsuka agrees quietly. Mafuyu feels Kedama hop back up on the end of the bed, his little body shuffling around as he settles down around their legs. “Sleep, babe.”

And then, as the tide of sleep rises up to claim him again, he hears, faint and quiet, Ritsuka murmur, “you’re so cool, how did I get so lucky?”

Mafuyu stirs again sometime later, the heavy veil of sleep lifting and leaving him impossibly more groggy than before. He feels Ritsuka shift underneath him, wonders if he rolled on top of the other boy or if he was manhandled here for warmth, and then tries to figure out what's woken him up. 

Kedama barks, one of his soft little _yip!_ noises, and pounces at their feet. He tugs on the comforter over their ankles, bounces away, and then does it again. 

_Ugh_ , Mafuyu thinks, feeling the crust and gunk in the corners of his eyes crinkle as he blinks. _My turn I guess._

But before he can shove his way upright or even begin to work up the courage to vacate the soft warmth of the bed-covers-cocoon they've made, Ritsuka's already moving, already wriggling out from under him and dropping a kiss to Mafuyu's temple as he goes. 

"I can do it," Mafuyu mumbles, wriggling around to try and find the edge of the bed through the fog in his head. 

Ritsuka's laughter is a warm and physical presence and it crawls up and settles against Mafuyu's chest as he finally finds the edge of their blankets and pulls it down. His boyfriend has already pulled on a pair of Mafuyu's too-small sweatpants on over his sleep pants, has already started to worm his way into a hoodie Mafuyu suspects might be too small for him too. 

"Don't worry about it," Ritsuka says, grinning as his head emerges victorious through the piece of clothing. He ducks as he tugs the hoodie down, frowns a little when it doesn't really reach all the way to his waist like it should, and then shrugs as he scoops up socks from the floor. The whole time he moves Kedama is bouncing around his legs, _yip! yip! yip!_ -ing away as he wags his tail hard enough Mafuyu wonders sleepily if it'll fall off. 

It's such a cute image, Kedama peering up at Ritsuka as Ritsuka leans over and swats at him to give him space so he can pull on his socks, that Mafuyu is reaching for his phone before the thought really registers.

It takes a few tries to get a good photo - Ritsuka's moving his arms in the first and Kedama's jumping in the second and third, but the fourth picture turns out clear and simple, with Ritsuka leaning over the puppy with his hands on his hips and Kedama propped up against his shins with his two front paws, tongue lolling happily out of his mouth. 

The air outside the blankets is chilly, even with the muted purr from the heater doing its best, so Mafuyu pulls his phone back inside the cocoon as Ritsuka murmurs, "alright, _alright_ , you spoiled little thing, we’re going."

"He wouldn't be so spoiled if it wasn't for you," Mafuyu teases, tipping his head back against their askew pillows as Ritsuka picks his way over Kedama to lean down and give him a quick kiss. 

Ritsuka snorts, drags the callused pad of his thumb warm and familiar against Mafuyu's jaw, and rolls his eyes as Kedama gives another impatient _yip!_ by the bedroom door. 

"Spoiled," Ritsuka reiterates fondly. Mafuyu laughs.

"Just like his dad?"

Ritsuka rolls his eyes as he ambles over and swipes his phone off Mafuyu's dresser, but he's smiling when he grumbles, "I'm pretty sure if I was spoiling you I'd go easier on your chord transitions."

Mafuyu laughs again, this time louder and brighter than before as he lifts a hand and rubs the grit from the corners of his eyes. 

(It's true - Ritsuka's never gone easy on Mafuyu, before they started dating or after. He's just as demanding and grumpy as he'd been that first day on the stairs and half the time when he dishes out compliments to Haruki and Akihiko he follows it up by a remark on how he knows Mafuyu can do better.

"Sorry," Ritsuka had muttered once, when Akihiko had chucked a crumpled up sheet of paper at him and told him not to be so fucking harsh on Mafuyu all the time. "I forget, sometimes, when you're playing that you've only been doing this for a little while. I'll try to be better about it from now on."

But Mafuyu had shook his head and curled himself against Ritsuka's shoulder, because Ritsuka always took his words more seriously when they were accompanied by touch, and only murmured, "I like it when you push me to be better, because you push me to do better because you think I can."

He hadn't said _no one else really thinks I can_ or _it's important to me that you think I can._ Those words had stuck in his throat. 

Ritsuka's answer had been quick and firm, sharp but not unkind as he corrected, "I don't think you can, I _know_ you can." And then he paused as Mafuyu had swallowed back against the urge to cry and added, "music's so much fun when I'm playing it with you. But it should be fun for you too, y'know?"

Mafuyu had laughed, had tipped his face down against the ball of Ritsuka's shoulder so the other boy couldn't see the way tears were building in his eyes, and he'd sworn, "I'm having fun too, Ritsuka. I'm having more fun than I thought I could, I promise."

So maybe Ritsuka's not soft on Mafuyu when they've got a pair of guitars in their hands and maybe Mafuyu plays that up, huffs and pouts and fishes for compliments when he does something right just to see Ritsuka twitch and laugh and roll his eyes. 

He still thinks Ritsuka's spoiled him, just as much if not more than he's spoiled Kedama. But if Ritsuka wants to pretend otherwise, Mafuyu's content to let him.)

"C'mon Tama," Ritsuka says as he opens the bedroom door and shuffles out into the hall. " _C'mon_ baby boy, where's your- oh, good morning Ms. Sato."

Mafuyu snorts as he curls down to look at his phone under the covers, tapping away at the screen as he boots up his Twitter app. He picks the best photo of Kedama and Ritsuka, crops it a little to hide the mess of his room until only their guitar cases lent together can be seen, and captions it _Tama has him so well trained._

"Good morning, Uenoyama," his mother says. Her voice sounds tired, but cheerful as it floats through the open door to his ears and smiles a little even as his chest goes tight. "Mafuyu texted me to let me know you were staying over. I didn't wake you two up when I came in, did I?"

"No ma'am," Ritsuka answers, adorably polite. "Only thing that's woken me up this morning is this little guy. Isn't that right, Tama?"

Kedama goes _yip! yip!_ right on cue, which makes Ritsuka and his mother laugh quietly to themselves. Mafuyu snorts a laugh too, scrolling through his Twitter feed for a moment before he locks his phone and tucks it under his chin. 

"Did the snowfall delay your flight," he hears Ritsuka ask his mother, though his voice sounds like it's getting more muffled or maybe further away. "Mafuyu said you were supposed to get in earlier this morning."

"It did, but only for an hour or two. I thought I might make some breakfast and then try and catch up on sleep. Does miso and rice sound good to you?"

"Works for me, Ms. Sato."

His mother laughs, the sound melding into a hum Mafuyu knows well. It sounds good, to hear her laugh, and he closes his eyes for a moment to bask in it. 

"Do you know if anyone got any video of your concert last night? I'm going to do everything I can to make the next one, I promise, but-"

"Don't worry about it, Ms. Sato," Ritsuka says gently, if a little awkward. "I'm pretty sure Haruki's friend Take has some video from last night, I'll see if he can email it to me today." There's a pause, one long enough for Mafuyu to open his eyes and try and squint through the opening in his bedroom door, and then Ritsuka adds, "I think Take was telling Haruki before the concert that he wanted us to play at the venue a couple times a month, if we were up for it. I can see if Haruki has a better idea of when the next one would be, if you’d like."

Silence hangs after Ritsuka's offer and Mafuyu imagines what his mother's face looks like, lips probably parted in surprise, eyes clear and bright.

"Thank you, Uenoyama, honey," his mother says eventually, achingly, achingly soft. "I'd appreciate that a lot." She clears her throat, a gentle hitching noise, and then adds, "try not to lose poor Tama in the snow, alright? It's starting to pile up taller than he is."

Ritsuka snorts a small puff of laughter out through his nose, loud enough for Mafuyu to hear in his room, and echoes, "oh right, poor _Tama_." The statement makes his mother laugh, a bright ringing sound someone once told Mafuyu he inherited from her, and Ritsuka's voice grows distant and muffled again as he adds, "you heard her, Tama, baby, let's go and get you lost in a snowbank, hm, boy? Wanna get lost in a snowbank while your daddy sleeps the morning away? Sounds fun, doesn't it, sounds-"

The front door opens and shuts, cutting off Ritsuka's baby talk, and in the silence left behind Mafuyu finds himself burrowing down into the covers as if he needs to hide the way he's grinning from ear to ear. 

He lays there for a moment, basking in it, and then he pushes himself up, worms out of the blankets, and stands. The world sways and the room is on the uncomfortable side of chilly now that he's out of bed, so he scoops up a discarded hoodie and pads from the room. 

He ducks into the bathroom as he digs his hands through the sleeves of the hoodie, washes his face and uses the toilet. The tile is ice cold under his bare feet and it makes his toes curl, send shivers down his spine. The hoodie he’s pulled on is a little too big, a little too cold from lying out on the floor all night, but it’s warming up bit by bit as he goes.

Hands and face clean and chilly, he shuffles back out into the hall, knuckling the corners of his eyes as he goes. He knows the moment his mother spots him because she sucks in a quiet breath that he feels kick against his chest and murmurs, "oh, honey, you're awake!"

"Mornin' Mom," he mumbles, smiling as he drops his arms to his sides. His mother looks as tired and rumpled as she sounds, but her smile is as kind as always as she wiggles her fingers at him in a wave. 

A thought strikes him as he shuffles across the room and abruptly he changes directions from where he had been heading for the dining room table. His mother makes a puzzled noise as he heads instead for the balcony door, tutting at him from her spot huddled above the warm stove. 

"Sweetheart, what are you doing?"

Mafuyu smiles quietly to himself, unlatching the sliding door to the balcony and biting back another shiver as the icy air outside immediately tries to worm its way into his limbs. 

"Throwing a snowball at my boyfriend," he replies, simple and straight-forward. 

He sees his mother jolt at that statement, at the easy, casual way it falls from his mouth. He sees her frown, just a little, as she mulls over what he's said.

“Won’t he be mad? He’s doing you a favor, isn’t he, taking Kedama out like that.”

(Yuki, Mafuyu thinks, would have been mad. 

Would have probably sulked, would have probably refused to take Kedama out in the snow for no other reason than to let the little dog frolic about in the first place, and would have only really gone if Mafuyu had poked and prodded for Yuki to come outside with them.

The thought registers. It hurts.

But it doesn’t change anything, really.)

“Nah,” Mafuyu says, shrugging one shoulder as he tugs on the balcony door. It takes a pretty firm tug to get it open, disuse mixed with the cold making it cranky, but it slides open in fits and starts until there’s a gap large enough for Mafuyu to slip through. “Ritsuka’ll grumble, but he won’t get mad.”

 _It’ll probably make him laugh_ , he thinks, and he smiles. 

He doesn’t miss the odd look his mother gives him as he pad barefoot out onto the freezing cold concrete, the slight widening to her eyes or the small parting of her lips.

(It’s the same look people have been giving them - _him_ \- a lot recently. 

Uneasy. Distant. Like they’re a pair of strangers standing in loved ones’ shoes.

The thought registers. It hurts. 

It doesn't change anything, really.)

The concrete floor of the balcony is even colder than the tile in the bathroom and Mafuyu feels himself start to shake in his sleep pants, t-shirt, and hoodie. There's a line of snow just before the railing, thin and scattered, and then piled atop the railing is about three or four inches of the light, powdery stuff. 

Stepping on the fresh snow makes Mafuyu want to yelp but he bears it as best he can, scooping up a chunk to pat it into a loose, messy snowball. He rears his arm back, leans over the edge to find Ritsuka and Kedama down below, and then, once he’s got them in his sights, throws.

" _Hey_ ," Ritsuka yelps, skittering back and nearly sending himself on his ass with the force of his own flinch as the loosely packed snowball scatters mid-air and only sort-of splatters against the edge of his shoulder. He whips his head up, narrowing his eyes as he tries to retrace the projectile's path, and then-

And then he freezes as Mafuyu meets his glower with a cheery wave and a bright grin. 

" _What the hel-ck, Mafuyu,"_ Ritsuka yells, barely keeping himself from swearing at the last minute. " _Did you get out of bed just for that?!"_

Mafuyu cups his hands around his mouth, feeling them start to go numb with the cold as he shouts, " _Yeah! I missed you!"_

Ritsuka drops his head back with a groan, but even at this distance Mafuyu can tell he's giving the sky above his dopiest grin. 

" _Tama_ ," Mafuyu can hear Ritsuka say fondly, the snow and quiet around them amplifying his voice even as he tries to keep it to a whisper, _"I think your dad's trying to kill me."_

Mafuyu snorts quietly to himself, ducking his head against the edge of the hoodie to hide his smile. He leans a little farther over the balcony's edge, shivers when the icy cold wind tries to play with the edges of his hair, and then shouts, " _hey, Ritsuka?_ "

Ritsuka picks up his head from where he’s dropped it to look down at Kedama to give Mafuyu a flat look that speaks clearly across the distance between them. Mafuyu only grins, cups his hands around his mouth again, and shouts, as loud as he can, " _I love you!_ "

The noise Ritsuka makes is unintelligible, but loud enough to carry the trembling edges of a barely swallowed laugh across the snow-drowned distance between them. Three stories down Ritsuka cups his hands around his own mouth and shouts back, " _I love you too! Now go inside before you freeze, you dummy!"_

Mafuyu laughs, curling over the balcony's edge and dislodging some of the snow as he does so. He leans back, just enough to scoop some of the powdery stuff up once more, and then launches another sloppy snowball Ritsuka's way. It misses by a mile, breaking apart mid-air to spatter amongst a few bushes, but Kedama goes crazy for it, yipping away and trying to chase it all. 

Ritsuka's laughter is entirely worth the painfully numb fingers Mafuyu goes inside with a few minutes later, after he's scraped the balcony railing pretty much clear of snow and thrown it all down at Kedama for the little puppy to chase. Ritsuka had been videotaping a lot of it, the footage of which is probably shaky and the audio of which is probably entirely the boy's own laughter, but Mafuyu can't wait to see it when he comes upstairs regardless of the probable quality. 

Inside, still hovering over the stove, his mother is watching him with a look in her eyes that reminds him of Hiiragi and Shizusumi, of Tsubaki, of every side-eyed glance and hushed whisper they've gotten at school in the past few months. He freezes, the realization that he'd likely never have thrown a snowball at Yuki like that digging into his skin like hooks as a weight like a stone sinks in his stomach. 

"I've changed," he says suddenly, the click of the balcony door sliding shut loud in the otherwise still and quiet apartment, "haven't I?"

Ritsuka's warm laughter seems so far away right now. Mafuyu shivers, burying his hands into his armpits, desperately wishing he had that sound back instead of the muted gurgle of the cooking pots and the hushed hum of the overworked heater. 

His mother, who's always been so much like him, only stares for a few moments, eyes shadowed with emotions the rest of her face doesn't quite reflect. And then, quietly and carefully, she puts her spoon aside and steps away from the stove. 

"You have," she confirms, soft and sad and yet warm like Ritsuka’s laughter as she crosses the apartment in a few strides and wraps him up in her arms. She's shorter than he is, but he sinks into her touch the way he had as a child, tucking his frozen nose into her neck quietly. She shivers, but doesn't pull away, her arms tightening around him as if in response to his- _everything_. "But it's not a bad thing to change, baby. It happens all the time, to all of us."

He hums, wrapping his arms around behind her back as he holds onto her the same way he did when the ambulance drove off two years ago, lights flashing and siren as silent as the grave that would soon be readied for its occupant.

"Do you think it's a good change," he asks, scared of the question and answer in pretty equal measures. 

His mother draws back, sliding her hands up to cradle his face. It's the same thing he and Ritsuka do, the same cradling-adoring-supporting gesture, and Mafuyu sinks into the touch like it's a warm, roomy bath. 

"I think," his mother says, quiet and steady, eyes like steel and voice like honey, "that I'm so, so very glad I get to hear you laugh again. And that no matter what happens, you will always be my darling son."

 _Do you think_ , he almost asks, _that Yuki would still love me like this?_

(Part of Mafuyu went in that grave with Yuki the day of the funeral. Part of his heart crawled in after Yuki and never came back.

There's something new growing in its place. Or maybe its growing right next door to that gaping grave-hole in his heart. Mafuyu isn't sure. 

But it's growing. _He's_ growing. 

That's got to count for something. And even if Yuki would have hated him for it, even if Yuki would have loved him for it, it doesn't matter because in the end-

In the end Yuki isn't _here_.

Mafuyu is. Mafuyu's here and he has to live with that.

He has to live with that. He has to live with the good notes and the bad notes and he has to live with everything else in between.

The thought registers, sitting on his shoulders like the weight of his guitar case. It doesn’t hurt as much as it once did. 

It changes things, this time. But only a little.)

Mafuyu leans into his mother's touch, leans into her soft reassuring words and the steel behind her eyes, and gives her his best attempt at a smile. 

"I love you," he murmurs. His mother smiles, a wavering teary-eyed kind of smile that he's sure matches his own best attempt that still curves the edges of his lips, and squeezes his cheeks a little with her palms. 

"I love you too," she answers quietly. And then, giving a little laugh as she lets him go, she adds, "go crawl under a blanket or something, honey. I can feel you shivering from being outside."

"Yes ma'am," he murmurs in a bad approximation of Ritsuka's voice. His mother laughs again as she makes her way back to the stove and he picks his way toward the couch and the throw blanket draped over it, settling in the corner against the arm and tugging the blanket absently over his legs. 

He tugs his phone out of his pocket as he waits for Ritsuka to come back up with Kedama, checking the lock screen notifications first. He has a LINE message from Haruki and a few Twitter notifications, which mostly cover his lock screen image of Kedama laying sprawled across a sunbeam. 

Haruki's LINE message when Mafuyu taps on it and unlocks his phone is simple, if dry. 

_from: bassist dad-friend haruki  
you wouldn't know subtle if it beat you over the head, would you?_

Mafuyu snorts to himself and types back _i know subtle. i've done subtle. i like this better._ After a moment's consideration he adds _i can tone it back down for the band if you think it's too much._

While waiting for Haruki's reply, Mafuyu switches apps and looks at his Twitter notifications instead.

One is a reply from his earlier tweet from Akihiko, sent five minutes ago that reads _i will pay you to throw a snowball at his head._

The other notification is from a reply to Akihiko's reply, from Ritsuka. Mafuyu clicks on it, wondering absently how his boyfriend is using his phone when his hands are sure to be shaking uncontrollably with the cold, and then chokes on a laugh at Ritsuka's tweet. 

_oh trust me, he already beat you to that idea man_

He slouches further into the couch and taps away at his screen, replying to both of them to say _it didn't even hit you :(_. He can feel his mother glance at him when he can't quite smother another laugh, but there's a smile tugging at the corner of her lips and the sight of it eases the stone-weight in his gut.

He realizes a second later as he's scrolling through his timeline that Ritsuka's reply to Akihiko isn't the only thing he's posted in the past few minutes and he feels his heart kick up into his throat in a good way. 

_Ritsuka's phone camera must be nicer than mine_ , is the first thought that comes to his mind as he looks at the photo Ritsuka must have taken of him when he was out on the balcony. It's zoomed in, close enough to see the way his nose scrunches with laughter, close enough to see that he's smiling even with his mouth open. 

Close enough, in fact, that Mafuyu notices for the first time the hoodie he's pulled on is for the basketball team of a middle school he didn't go to. 

(It's not close enough for the camera to pick out the fact that _Uenoyama_ is printed onto it in small neat little strokes, right above his heart. It probably helps that the hand Mafuyu had been leaning his chin on covered most of that area of text.

The thought makes him flush with heat, makes him think of the way he’d crowded Ritsuka against the wall in the same stairwell as their first kiss so that he could return the favor of sweeping the other boy off his feet.

Ritsuka’s name, printed out just above his heart for everyone to see. He likes it.

He likes it a _lot_.)

 _Oh_ , his next coherent (not heat-drenched, not want-filled) thought goes, _this isn't subtle at all. Haruki's definitely gonna bury us alive in the snow._

Ritsuka's caption is simple and short and just as teasing and sweet as Mafuyu's caption had been on his own posted picture. 

_someone here is lucky they're cute and this time it isn't Tama_

Mafuyu stares at the Tweet so long his phone screen tries to go dark with inactivity four times. He stares at it for so long that the sound of someone jiggling the front door knob as they open the door reaches his ears. 

"Oh," his mother murmurs over the muted sound of breakfast gurgling as it cooks and the hum of the heater. "It sounds like Uenoyama and Tama are back, why don't you-"

Mafuyu's up and off the couch before his mother can really suggest it, up and thundering his way down the hall before the door can swing open more than an inch. 

Ritsuka is even more windswept and handsome up close than he was as Mafuyu peered down from the balcony, his cheeks and nose wind-bitten red, his hair damp and curling as snow caught there starts to melt in the heat of the apartment. He’s humming something in an absent kind of way, the bottom of his sweat-pants soaked from the snow, the hem of his too-small hoodie riding up his stomach.

He’s _gorgeous_ , Mafuyu thinks, overcome with affection and heat alike. Ritsuka’s gorgeous and Mafuyu loves him.

Mafuyu trips down into the entryway in almost the same moment Ritsuka manages to step fully inside, Kedama bouncing along ahead, and there's a split second where Ritsuka seems to register Mafuyu's falling before Mafuyu does, alarm flickering across his face before he manages to get his arms up just in time. 

Ritsuka grunts quietly as he falls back against the half open door, the combined weight of their bodies shutting it with a bang. At their feet a damp and chilly Kedama barks in surprise, his little _yip! yip! yip!_ s punctuated by his paws coming up to dig into their tangled legs. 

"Shit Mafuyu," Ritsuka breathes, breathless either from his surprise or from the way Mafuyu has just barrelled down into his chest. "You okay? What's wrong, what-"

Mafuyu fists his hands in the collar of the too small hoodie Ritsuka's wearing and tugs him down into a kiss, brief but searing, chaste but _important_. Ritsuka jolts when their lips touch, his hands flying up to spread over Mafuyu's sides, two points of ice-cold contact even through Mafuyu's too big hoodie and t-shirt, but he doesn't push him away or haul him close. 

He just holds him, gentle and careful and sweet. He just presses forward, just enough for Mafuyu to feel the way Ritsuka smiles into the kiss. 

Mafuyu draws back, though he doesn’t go far, moving only for Ritsuka to lean down and press their foreheads together gently as his boyfriend brings them back together. 

"I told you, Tama," Ritsuka murmurs, too soft to be believably directed at the puppy still pawing at their legs. "Your dad really is trying to kill me, huh?"

"Shut up," Mafuyu murmurs back, laughing quietly, a bright too-happy sound in the scant winter-chill space between them. He finds himself grinning, finds himself flexing his fingers against the soft familiar feeling of his own hoodie on Ritsuka’s body, and then adds, "hey, Ritsuka?"

Ritsuka hums, voice deep and steady in the back of his throat. It's a musical sound, a familiar sound, and one Mafuyu can't help but echo with a little hum of his own. 

"Yeah," Ritsuka answers, corner of his mouth curling up in a grin when Mafuyu doesn’t rush to continue. "What's up?"

Mafuyu brushes their noses together, delights in the way Ritsuka goes a little cross eyed as he tries to follow the motion, and then whispers, "you're really cool, you know that?"

Ritsuka makes a noise that's somehow fond and breathless and embarrassed, all at once, before he uses his grip on Mafuyu's waist to gently, carefully push him back so that they can step away from the door. 

"I'm really _cold_ is what I am," Ritsuka retorts and he's been inside long enough that Mafuyu thinks the pinkness at the end of his ears is a blush instead of wind-chill. Mafuyu laughs and lets himself be guided and crowded away from the front door, lets Ritsuka pry his fingers off his collar with only one last teasing little tug. 

"Tama agrees with me," Mafuyu claims, stepping back and dropping down into a crouch to scoop up the wiggling snow-damp puppy. Kedama barks happily, paws pressing against Mafuyu's shoulders as he tries to lick his face, and Mafuyu makes a face as Ritsuka pauses in pulling off his boots to laugh at him. "Don't you, Tama? You think Ritsuka's cool, don't you?"

"Now you're the one telling him lies," Ritsuka teases, dragging a hand through his hair only to grimace at himself quietly as the wet strands immediately flop back in his face. "Ugh, can you-"

"Stay right there," Mafuyu murmurs, passing off Kedama to Ritsuka before he can finish his question. "I'll be right back with towels."

Ritsuka gives him a look that would have been flat if it wasn't for the happy-bright look in his eyes and murmurs, "oh _trust me_ , I'm not going _anywhere_."

 _You better not be_ , Mafuyu thinks, heart clenching in his chest. Out loud though he uses the same tone he does for Kedama when he successfully does a trick and chimes, "good boy!"

Ritsuka's embarrassed, peeved noise is loud in the otherwise quiet of the apartment. 

But not loud enough to cover the sound of his mother's half-smothered laugh from the kitchen. 

(Ritsuka gets his revenge for the snowball later that day when they go out grocery shopping with his mom and Kedama. 

They're on their way back, Mafuyu's mother and Kedama leading the way while Ritsuka and Mafuyu follow along with the grocery bags for dinner, when Ritsuka suddenly says, "hey, can you hold this for a minute?"

"Hm," Mafuyu murmurs, pulling himself out of his drifting thoughts. He shifts to take the bags Ritsuka holds out for him, feeling his eyebrows scrunch up a little in confusion, and then he doesn't have enough time to even yelp before Ritsuka's ducking down, scooping up a loose handful of snow, yanking off Mafuyu's hat and slamming the snow down on the top of his head. 

" _Hey_!" He nearly drops the groceries with all his squirming, nearly trips out into the road with the way he staggers at the ice-cold, wet-sludge feeling of snow melting against his scalp. He probably would have tripped for sure if Ritsuka hadn't wound an arm around his waist to yank him solidly back on his feet. " _Ritsuka_!"

He's peripherally aware of his mother pausing ahead and turning back to look at them, just as he's almost listening to the soft sound of Kedama going _yip! yip! yip!_ in the distance, but most of his attention is on Ritsuka, who's doing his best to curb his smirk and look innocent even as he tugs Mafuyu further against his side and away from a passing car.

"Payback, babe," Ritsuka says lowly, shaking his free hand out to flick off the last of the snow. He slides his hand from around Mafuyu's waist and reaches for the bags he'd handed off to him, grinning crookedly as his fingers tangle with Mafuyu's around the loops of the plastic bag's handles. 

Mafuyu knocks their shoulders together, shaking his head like a wet dog even as a laugh bubbles up in his throat to crawl its way out his mouth. He keeps a hold of the bags, though, and Ritsuka doesn't seem to fight him on it, seemingly content to curl his gloved fingers around Mafuyu's and help him carry the weight that way. 

"I didn't even hit you," Mafuyu complains, pouting theatrically as their elbows knock together as they resume their journey. "It broke apart before it got to you!"

Ritsuka hums a few notes of a song, low and easy as he bites the corner of his lip and peers sideways at Mafuyu through his lashes. "Maybe you just need to learn to make a better snowball."

Mafuyu feels his heart lurch into his throat in a good kind of way and can't help the way he peers up at his boyfriend, eyelashes fluttering as he does. 

"Well then," he breathes, sweet and coy and a little husky, the way he always seems to sound after Ritsuka's gotten his hands under his shirt during a kiss, "maybe you should _teach me_ , hm?" 

The change in Ritsuka is near instantaneous - he feels the other boy's fingers tighten around his own as a bright, weather-defying blush coats his cheeks, his mouth dropping open in a strangled kind of noise as Ritsuka does his best to curl into a ball while still walking. 

Mafuyu laughs and the sound is louder than he expects, even of himself. He laughs and he laughs and at his side Ritsuka sputters and blushes and tries to elbow him into sharing the embarrassment or at least feeling remorse for putting his thoughts in the gutter.

And through it all his mother gives a little smile and turns to guide Kedama back down the road and Mafuyu thinks _I'm glad I get to see you smile_.

_I'm glad I'm here to see you smile._

_I'm glad_ , he thinks, looking over at Ritsuka, _that it’s you who makes me smile_.)

**Author's Note:**

> this is my favorite of my two given fics and it's mostly because i love mafuyu SO MUCH
> 
> anyway this is entirely self indulgent and centered entirely around healing because that's my JAM. it's not always nice or neat or entirely straightforward, but i adore the healing process and love writing about it so. here we go!
> 
> i hope you all


End file.
